Page 2 of Knight’s Dominion

"Yep. We're all set to kick demon ass.”

The wind picked up speed and tugged at Grace’s ponytail. She fought the urge but couldn’t stop herself from looking up to the night sky, almost expecting to see a pair of dove-gray wings.

A bolt to the junk might dissuade the arrogant knight from following her next time. The prick had tried again to get her to stand down a couple weeks ago. Nothing—not even an infuriatingly stubborn, immortal demon hunter—would get her to abandon the fight. She imagined the fury in his eyes, veins bulging in his neck as he clutched the family jewels in pain and had to fight back a grin.

“He’ll be excited to see you, too,” Mark muttered.

“Who?”

“Chaos.”

Grace scowled.

“The terrible gleam in your eyes gave it away.”

“He better not get in my way tonight." She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her crossbow, adrenaline racing through her veins at the prospect of the coming fight. That initial rush always made her hands shake, at least until she was in the thick of it—then she was in her element.

"What's with you two, anyway?" Mark asked.

“Nothing.”

The guy snorted. “If all the eyeball daggers you shoot at the big bastard could draw blood, he’d be sliced to ribbons by now.”

“And let’s not forget the growing number of impressively creative insults and death threats," Laney added, a grin curving her lips. “I’ve got to say, I do enjoy those.”

Grace clutched the cool steel of her bow tighter and felt the rise of cold determination and white-hot rage that was never far away around that male. “What can I say? I hate his guts.”

The three settled into a comfortable silence while they waited for Tina. Minutes ticked by, but there was no familiar rattle of the fire escape.

Time was up; they needed to get going. “She'll have to meet us there."

They took off at a sprint, freerunning across the rooftop. Grace couldn't stop the smile that curled her lips as they leapt the meter-wide gap to the next building and kept going. The surge of adrenaline was addicting.

Dammit, they needed Tina and her skill with a crossbow. Their bolts immobilized the vermin scrambling out of the portal, giving her people enough time to move in and remove their heads, turning them to ash.

Of course, the knights would be fighting as well.

The arrogant bastards were failing miserably, failing the people they were created to protect, and that blame rested squarely on Chaos’s shoulders. And if the guy hadn't already picked up that she despised him with a fierceness that bordered on psychotic, he was even more of a fool than she thought.

They leaped to the next building and kept on sprinting.

He had no idea what went on in this city, right under his damn nose. Someone had to stop the bloodshed, the slaughter and kidnapping of her people, and if the knights couldn't do it, she sure as hell would give it her best shot.

If Chaos didn't like it? Well, tough shit. She'd worked too hard, had sacrificed too much to back down now. She didn’t answer to him, had been fighting for this cause since she was sixteen years old. And she'd continue to do so, with or without his approval. She sure as hell wasn't going to stop just because that growly bastard demanded it.

When they reached their destination, most of her people were already there, waiting, lining the walls above the alley. She joined them at the edge of the building and looked down. It was dark, with oppressive shadows that seemed to creep in, covering everything in its path. The smell of evil, of death, clung to the brick walls and concrete floor, saturating the air around them.

And of course, he was there.

Chaos stood front and center like always, his massive body held rigid, looking surly as fuck. She was pretty sure that was the only expression he was capable of, with the exception of a few variations. There was grumpy: when both brows got in on the act. Pissed off: add in a wicked lip curl. And, of course, murderous: his whole face got involved with that one. Add in the short beard, buzzed hair, and the tattoo covering one side of his head, and he looked kind of like a Marvel super villain…or maybe a serial killer.

He was dressed in his usual uniform: worn jeans and a black T-shirt, black boots on his feet. She scrutinized him as he swung his short sword, limbering up. The muscles in his arm flexed, causing the tattoo-like markings each knight was born with to dance across his tanned skin.

Her belly tightened, doing a little flip, and she gritted her teeth.

Laney rubbed her arms. "I can already feel it. Gives me goose bumps every time.”

Grace jumped up onto the taller lip edging the building. "Take your positions, everyone,” she called to her people.